


Jeeves and the Spiffing Suit

by Saylee



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Clothed Sex, Clothing Kink, M/M, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/Saylee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bertie and Jeeves are in perfect agreement on The Suit</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves and the Spiffing Suit

**Author's Note:**

> Because if you can't write suit porn in the Jooster fandom, where can you write it?

The suit is utterly spiffing, a smart navy blue pinstripe in fine worsted wool, and Bertie watches eagerly as Jeeves removes it from its brown paper wrapping with care. He can already feel the weight of the fabric, the perfect drape of the wool and the smoothness of the silk lining, and he shifts from foot to foot, knowing he will not be allowed to try the thing on until Jeeves has it pressed to his exacting standards.

He has tried the suit on before, at the tailor’s, of course, but it’s not the same when one is surrounded by shop assistants with measuring tapes, having to control oneself and avoid the gaze of one’s smirking manservant. Bertie knew full well that Jeeves wanted to get Bertie and that suit alone and in his hands, every bit as much as Bertie desired it himself. While Jeeves would never be so undignified as to salivate, Bertie had seen the gleam in his man’s eye the day they had chosen the design, and he knew the meaning of the way his hand had lingered over the fine wool.

This afternoon, as Bertie had tried on the suit, he had felt his man’s gaze burning into his back and the memory makes him whimper now. Jeeves quirks the corner of his mouth at him as he removes his own black jacket and folds it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

'You needn’t wait in here, sir,' he offers, though he is perfectly aware that the young master will give anything for the opportunity to watch his man in his shirtsleeves. It’s something about the strength of his arms under that crisp white fabric that Bertie finds so hypnotic. The valet covers the trousers with a sheet of parchment paper and flicks water onto it, and the perfect control of this movement, too, is why Bertie’s breath disappears in a whoosh that gets lost in this hiss of steam. Jeeves takes his time with the ironing, watching the young master with amused self-satisfaction, and Bertie thinks ruefully, not for the first time, that his man gets far too much enjoyment out of watching him squirm.

When the iron is at last set down with an air of finality, Bertie jumps to his feet, all too happy to obey the unspoken command in the flicker of the Jeevesian eyebrow. He legs it to the master bedroom and Jeeves follows at his usual shimmer, the suit draped reverently over his arm. Bertie’s hands shake in his haste to shed his clothes until Jeeves steps in to help.

'Please, sir, do be careful with the fabric,' he scolds, his eyes intent on Bertie, even as his fingers deftly work on the buttons.

'Right ho, Jeeves.' The suit from which he is being divested may not be up to the sheer magnificence of The Suit, but it’s a topping bit of quality in its own right, and it would be unimaginable for Jeeves to allow a good suit to be treated with disrespect.

Jeeves being Jeeves, Bertie is down to his shorts and vest in no time flat, and Jeeves is offering him a crisp new shirt from the wardrobe.

'I wonder, sir,' he asks, reaching around to fasten the buttons, 'whether you noticed the new heather twill at Mr Bonham’s shop? It would make an excellent lounge, I believe.'

Bertie tilts his head back to smile at his man. 'I did.' He turns and Jeeves is holding up the trousers, ready to assist the young master into them. 'What’s more, I noticed that dark blue with the thin red stripe that I know you were eyeing.' He leans on his man’s strong shoulders to step into the trousers, more than he strictly needs to for balance, and he is gratified to note that Jeeves is breathing more heavily than is his wont. His eyes gleam.

'You know me very well, sir.' He gently turns Bertie back towards the mirror, allowing him to fasten his own braces.

'The trousers just an inch or so higher, sir. One aims for the perfect break over the instep.'

The words are murmured into Bertie’s ear, and it takes all of Bertie’s concentration not to ruin the desired effect even as he adjusts the braces as instructed.

'Perfect, sir.' He slides his hands up Bertie’s thighs. 'We will order something in the red stripe. Something double-breasted, the buttons six-on-two, I think.' He pauses to nibble on Bertie’s neck. 'It will suit you admirably, sir.'

He passes Bertie his cufflinks and turns to the wardrobe to extract a cerulean tie with a herringbone weave, which Bertie ties himself, concentrating on the perfect Windsor knot to please his man, and is startled when Jeeves presents the waistcoat almost the moment he succeeds.

Bertie slips his arms through the holes and Jeeves presses close against his back, reaching around to fasten it. He turns his head for a kiss, which Jeeves returns, before lightly swatting him on the billowy portions.

'You are distracting me, sir, and there is still the jacket,' he chides, though Bertie can hear the smile and the slight breathlessness.

'Mmm. My apologies, Jeeves.' He presses back against the warmth of his man, and reaches behind him to run his fingertips up a strong thigh.

'Sir –' Jeeves nips the nape of his neck in warning, and Bertie reluctantly releases him. He allows Jeeves to slip the jacket over his shoulders, and they stand together, taking in the sight in the mirror.

'What do you think, Jeeves?' Bertie asks as his man’s warm hands wander over his lapels, down the smooth wool of his waistcoat, and down to slide slowly over his hips.

'Exquisite, sir.' Jeeves’s eyes are dark as he drinks in The Suit.

'And on me, Jeeves?'

Jeeves’s chuckle is rich and warm, and Bertie still feels privileged every time he is allowed to hear it. 'Very becoming, Bertram.' He kisses behind Bertie’s ear, and Bertie lets his head fall back against Jeeves’s shoulder with a shuddering breath.

'Mmm. Jeeves.'

'The things I want to do to you, Bertram.'

'And to the suit,' Bertie teases breathlessly, as talented fingers trail closer to where his erection is distorting the cut of the trousers.

'Mmm, yes, and the suit.'

The hand still on Bertie’s hip tightens, and he presses back against the hard heat of Jeeves’s own erection. Jeeves nips at the shell of his ear and strokes him through the layers of fabric.

'Such a very fine suit. It begs me to debauch you.' His strokes become firmer, and Bertie makes an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat. 'Would you like that, sir?' Jeeves continues, panting into Bertie’s ear. 'Would you like it if I were to take down those trousers and bugger you just like this?' Swiftly, he opens Bertie’s flies and takes him in hand, brushing a thumb over the tip, making Bertie let out a very unmanly whimper and reach back to clutch at him. 'I could do it,' he continues in a harsh whisper. 'I could take you just like this, in this suit, and then send you out onto the street, and no one would know.' He sucks a kiss into the side of Bertie’s throat.

'Jeeves –'

'Look at yourself, sir. Bertram. I want you to watch yourself.'

Bertie’s eyes flutter open and he groans as he watches Jeeves stroking him. A shudder rips through him and he spills into the handkerchief that Jeeves seems to produce from midair. The sensation is overwhelming, but he thinks he feels soft lips and the back of his neck.

'Good Lord, Jeeves,' he manages when he finally finds his breath.

'Yes, sir.' Jeeves’s voice is strained, his breath falling in harsh pants against Bertie’s nape. 'Sir. Bertram. Would you -?'

'Of course, dear old thing,' Bertie says, turning in his arms, and nipping at those kissable lips before sliding to his knees. 'Is this what you wanted?' Jeeves’s fingers thread into his hair as Bertie unfastens his trousers and frees his straining length.

'Yes. Please. Bertram.' Bertie hums and takes the head into his mouth, tonguing at the slit, before bobbing his head, swallowing Jeeves down. Jeeves tightens one hand in Bertie’s hair, reaching out with the other to brace himself against the frame of the mirror. Bertie moans around his mouthful, digging his fingers into Jeeves’s hips.

'Bertram. Oh Lord, Bertram.' Jeeves shakes as his release hits him, and Bertie swallows contentedly. Finally, Jeeves gives a little shudder, and Bertie lets him slip from his mouth, smiling like a smug cat. Jeeves slides to the floor beside Bertie, and they hold each other for some minutes, kissing lazily, before Bertie lays his head on one broad shoulder, nuzzling Jeeves’s neck.

'I think this suit might need ironing again after all, old thing,' he murmurs, feeling boneless and disinclined to move.

Jeeves’s arms tighten around him. 'I will attend to it this evening, sir.'

'Spiffing. And that blue with the thin red stripe that you liked so much?'

Bertie thrills as a warm hand slides up his back, 'I believe another trip to Mr Bonham’s establishment is in order, sir. Tomorrow, perhaps?'


End file.
